


Five Times Elizabeth was Cold

by ShaneVansen



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneVansen/pseuds/ShaneVansen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Elizabeth was cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Elizabeth was Cold

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of peanutbutterer's birthday, I present (unbetaed) fic!
> 
> As [prompted](http://lone-pyramid.livejournal.com/139181.html?thread=1180077#t1180077) by Oparu a little while back. There were many interesting ideas, but for whatever reason the muse chose this one.
> 
> And yes, those lines you recognize are ~~quite blatantly stolen~~ lovingly and respectfully borrowed from _The X-Files_' episode "Detour."
> 
> Originally posted to LJ March 2009.

_-i-_

"Not a word," Elizabeth warns in that tone of voice that brooks no argument. "Not. A. Word."

John manages to bite back the laugh before it makes its way past his lips, but he's not quite as successful at keeping the grin off his face. Tipping his head in acknowledgement and completely ignoring her glare, he sweeps his hand toward the trail in an 'after you' gesture.

Elizabeth holds her glare for another heartbeat before heading in the direction of the Stargate, and John lets the smile break free as he falls into step a few paces behind. Her hiking boots, as soaking wet as the rest of her, make a sloshing sound with every step. "Well," he starts, an _I told you so_ close behind, but Elizabeth turns to give him another look and he reconsiders. Instead, he just grins widely at her.

Ten minutes later, John starts to feel a bit guilty for being so amused at her expense when he notices her shivering. It's a cloudless day but they're mostly in the shade of the trees, and Elizabeth's never handled the cold very well; he's seen her in long sleeves or even a jacket on days he's comfortable in a t-shirt. "Elizabeth," he calls up to her, waiting for her to turn and face him. "Why don't you change into your spare clothes?"

She glances around and then back at him. "Where, exactly?"

He rolls his eyes. "We're half an hour from meeting up with the others. I promise not to look."

She looks uncertain, but then a violent shiver wracks her body and she assents.

John turns around in an exaggerated motion and listens to the muted rustle of wet clothes. "Did you know," he says, raising his voice a little to ensure she can hear him, "that the best way to get warm is to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with someone else who's naked?"

There's a beat of silence, and then soggy fabric smacks into the back of his head. He yelps, more in surprise than anything else, and Elizabeth sounds amused when she tells him, "Maybe if it rains sleeping bags, you'll get lucky."

**

  
_-ii-_

They've been deep in negotiations for over two hours now and it takes most of her concentration to remember the precise wording and body language the Anazi insist on during formal talks, and all Elizabeth can think about is how absolutely freezing cold she is.

It's mostly her own fault. She wasn't paying close enough attention on their way from the Stargate and the sleeve of her coat had caught on a branch, ripping a fairly sizable hole. Since she couldn't very well show up with ripped clothing, the jacket had gone into her backpack. Thankfully she's wearing her long-sleeved shirt today, but it's proving to be not quite enough against the chill of the Anazi air as they conduct their negotiations in the outdoor meeting hall.

After another half-hour they finally call for a short break, and Elizabeth manages to hold out until the Anazi have all turned away before wrapping her arms over her chest and hunching over, trying to conserve heat; though she's not positive, there's a very high chance that such body language would be offensive – or at least deceptive – to their hosts.

She stays folded in on herself as she joins up with John's team, wishing briefly that she was back in D.C. and within five minutes of a Starbucks; she could really, really go for a steaming hot cup of _anything_ right about now.

"How are things proceeding?"

Though it's Teyla who asks, Elizabeth updates the entire team. She's halfway through what's been settled and what still needs to be accomplished when someone drapes a jacket over her shoulders, driving away the chill almost instantly, and she looks up to see John just behind her, sans coat. She quirks an eyebrow at him but he just shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting in a sheepish smile. She smiles back and tugs the coat closed, catching his scent on the fabric.

When negotiations resume fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth's still wearing his jacket. At least she's no longer cold.

She is, however, still distracted. Just for an entirely different reason.

**

  
_-iii-_

It isn't until the 'gate room is cleared of everyone except the handful of SFs dealing with the bodies that he spots Elizabeth, huddled on the bottom step off to the side of the room.

He approaches her carefully, taking in her pale face and the way she's trembling. There's a handgun by her feet and she's covered in blood.

"Elizabeth?" He kneels in front of her, worry climbing when she doesn't react to him. "Elizabeth, are you okay?"

She jumps when he rests a hand on her knee, finally looking at him with wide, haunted eyes. "John?" she whispers in a voice that's too thin.

"Are you okay?" he repeats.

She's slow to answer, and he's about two seconds away from scooping her up and carrying her to the infirmary when he sees her start to pull herself together. "John," she says again, in a more normal voice, and shudders. His question must finally register because she adds, "I'm not hurt. The blood is... is Rodney's."

He winces, because he saw Rodney's wound before he was taken by the medical personnel and "bad" is a huge understatement – he was nearly eviscerated. It'll be a while before they hear a prognosis.

His knees are starting to ache so John shifts position, accidentally kicking the gun he forgot was there.

The noise captures Elizabeth's attention and she glances down. John freezes when she says in a dispassionate tone, "I shot him."

He touches her knee again. "Shot who, Elizabeth?"

She blinks at him. "The... _thing_… that did – that – to Rodney." Her shivers turn into full-body shudders and he finally figures out that her system's overloaded and she's going into shock.

He moves to sit beside her and wraps his arms around her, rubbing his hands over her body to try to warm her up. She turns and leans into his chest, her breaths quick and unsteady against his neck. He talks to her quietly, tells her that it's over and that she did good, and after a time her breathing settles and her trembling stops. Still, he doesn't push; just lets her take her time until she's ready. When she eventually pulls away, he leaves one hand against her lower back but otherwise doesn't stop her. "Okay?"

She nods without looking at him. "Okay."

He stands, pulling her to her feet, and they head wordlessly for the infirmary.

**

  
_-iv-_

As much as Elizabeth loves Atlantis, one of her favourite duties – if it can even be considered a duty – is attending local celebrations.

And no one throws a party like the Athosians.

About half of Atlantis is here, mostly people from their first year in Pegasus when they relied on each other more and knew each other better. Part of Elizabeth misses those early days, even if regular contact with Earth means a steady supply of coffee.

"Hey." John materializes at her side, a mug in either hand. He passes her one. "I got you some of that fruit wine you like."

She accepts the drink with a smile, takes a sip, and sighs contentedly. "Thank you," she murmurs.

They stand in companionable silence for a while, watching the Atlantians and the Athosians. There's a lot of talking and laughter, and it puts Elizabeth at ease to see everyone so relaxed.

John's shoulder bumps against hers and she glances up at him, eyebrow raised in question. "I'm going for a walk. Wanna come with?"

It only takes a couple of seconds to make up her mind; the festival will continue for hours yet and some time away from the crowd would be nice. No one will miss her if she disappears for a little while.

"Let's go," she says, and loops her arm through his.

They take the long way around, meandering along the outskirts of the village until they reach the path leading away. They're not far from the settlement when Elizabeth realizes that it's quite a bit cooler away from the bonfires and the press of bodies, and she left her jacket in the puddle jumper. She shivers, goosebumps crawling along her arms, and she rubs them briskly to try to warm up.

"Cold?"

Elizabeth shoots him a look that roughly translates to _ya think?_ but says only, "A bit. I forgot my jacket."

"Do you want to go back?"

She's a little chilly but it's not enough to make her want to leave. "No," she says, shifting closer to him and his warmth. "I'm good."

From the corner of her eye she sees him look down at her and she can almost feel his surprise. A few steps later his arm tentatively comes up along her back, his hand rubbing gently along her upper arm.

She smiles and tucks herself closer against his side.

**

  
_-v-_

In spite of the plans made over dinner around the fire, John somehow ends up in Elizabeth's tent after his watch is over. It was supposed to be girls in one tent and the guys in the other, but in all the switches during the night things have gotten mixed up. Ronon's on watch now, Rodney and Teyla are in one tent, and that leaves him with Elizabeth.

It's dark inside the tent, and it takes a few moments of fumbling around to figure out that the reason why he can't find his sleeping bag is because Elizabeth's taken it. She seems to be wrapped up in her own, with his thrown over it.

For a moment he debates just letting her keep it, but it's pretty cold tonight, especially now that he's away from the fire. Trying to keep from waking her, he pulls carefully at his sleeping bag.

She must have already been awake because her head comes up from under the pile of blankets. "Hey," she mumbles sleepily. "What time is it?"

"0400," he whispers back. "You've got a few hours to sleep still."

She makes a noise and her head disappears back beneath the sleeping bags. "Can I have my sleeping bag back, by any chance?" he teases quietly.

"I'm cold."

"Well, so am I," he points out, and she groans and shoves the top sleeping bag at him. He sheds his boots and climbs in, settling himself next to Elizabeth. She's turned on her side, facing him, and snuggles in against his chest. He kisses her forehead and wraps an arm around her waist. She's shivering. So is he. They weren't expecting it to get this cold.

Elizabeth wriggles closer. "You know," she says, voice muffled, "someone once told me that the fastest way to get warm is to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with someone else who's naked. And it just so happens," and she tilts her head back to look at him in the dim light, "that I have a sleeping bag."

He gapes at her in shock for a moment before starting to laugh. Then Elizabeth's lips close over his, and in no time at all they're both very, very warm.

_\--end--_


End file.
